


Retired

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-01
Updated: 2008-12-01
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Spike visits an old friend, and finds that he doesn't approve of the domestic arrangements, because he's not part of them.Sorta Post-NFA, if we assume that Wes didn't die and LA didn't go into hell, but it was just a fight, yeah, and the AI team scattered afterward.





	Retired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bethynyc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/gifts).



> Well, it's PG, it's Wes/Giles, but because I love Spike so much he's on screen pretty much all of it.

Spike stood in front of the unassuming flat with his best defensive weapon in hand, a bottle of Giles’ favorite brandy. (He knew it was the watcher’s favorite, having pilfered it from him enough times to know it never went un-replenished.)

He was also armored with the information that Buffy heard Faith say that Robin Wood had received a card from Giles at this address. (This information gotten from Andrew via Dawn.) Sunnydale’s erstwhile denizens might have scattered to the four corners, but there were threads everywhere that a resourceful vampire could pick up.

He didn’t doubt this was the place. Giles’ name was on the mailbox for number four, just inside the street door he’d jimmied open.

He did doubt that this was at all a good idea, now that the event was upon him.

With an inner admonishment not to be such a nancy, he raised his hand and knocked.

The door swung open to reveal not the face he was expecting. “Sorry, wrong… Percy?”

Spike was embraced. A firm pat was administered to his back. The bottle of brandy was taken from him and remarked upon. Other things, polite, inquiring, and good-natured, were said.

“Rupert! It’s Spike of all vampires!” Was called into the open hallway.

It was only when Giles’ face appeared behind Wesley that Spike shook himself from his stupor. “So… I wasn’t wrong after all.”

“Spike,” Giles said, mild confusion on his face as well, melting into a warm smile. “I had heard, but I never thought… well, come in. Come in.”

Gile’s hand lingered on his shoulder, squeezing a bit as though to test his solidity.

This was going both better than Spike expected and absolutely, unquestionably tits-up. He turned squarely to face Wes and blurted, “What are you doing here?”

Wesley’s eyebrows rose a fraction but he smiled an affectionate smile. “I live here, stupid vampire. Now how many invitations does it take to get you to cross a threshold?”

And Wes put his arm around Spike’s shoulders and drew him into the hallway. Giles held the brandy up to a touchier light and laughed as he read the label. “I haven’t seen this in years. This is the best of what passed for Brandy at that depressingly under-stocked liquor store in Sunnydale. Whatever possessed you to buy this?”

Wesley set his chin on Giles’ shoulder. “I do believe vampires suffer some muting of the taste buds.” He kissed Giles’ ear in the most natural, unconscious way.

Giles chuckled, turning to kiss Wes on the mouth. Then they both glanced Spike’s way and looked confused.

Spike realized then that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it with an audible click.

Wes’ expression remained the same, but Giles tilted his head, lips pursing in a look both amused and smug.

Spike didn’t like that Giles tilted his head toward Wes, nor how the two men were of such a compatible height when it came to resting a cheek on a shoulder.

“I suspect,” Giles said, snaking a smug arm around Wes’ waist, “that Spike, like many of Buffy’s younger friends, can’t grasp the concept of a watcher having a private life.”

Which, like a slap, awoke Spike from his stupor. He scowled. “No. I just… didn’t think… you… knew each other.” He finished with a glare at Wes, who was covering his mouth with one hand, trying to hold a giggle in.

***

“They were all over each other!” Spike threw his hands up. “And looking at me like I’m the sad naïve cousin who’s never seen two men kiss before.”

“I’m sure that’s not what they were thinking,” Dawn said, smirking herself over her outstretched foot, the toes separated by wads of cotton as she applied bright fuscia polish with an expert hand.

“Then they were thinking I was a third wheel,” Spike flung himself onto the bed, upsetting Dawn’s array of magazines and little bottles. She squealed, rolling and raising her feet up to prevent the polish being mussed.

“You big jerk!” She swabbed at him with the tiny polish brush, leaving a brilliant wet pink stripe on the tip of his nose.

“Anyway,” she scooted back to the headboard, righting herself and her belongings. “What’s the big whoop? I’m glad for Giles having a boyfriend. It’s cute.”

Eyebrows very high, chin down, Spike said, “It’s Wesley.”

The pink stripe rather ruined the dead-serious expression. Dawn shrugged. “Yeah, so? Andrew tells me Wesley is way sexier than he was.” She paused thoughtfully in screwing the cap back on the nail polish. “Oh, but that was Andrew talking.”

“It’s not that. Wes is a stone-cold hottie these days – and don’t you dare tell anyone I said so. It’s just… they’re horrible for each other!”

Dawn leaned back on her elbows, waiting for an explanation.

“Okay, first off, Giles is making himself look foolish dating a younger man. Alright?”

“What’s that got to do with it? You were, like, a century older than Buffy.”

“But I don’t look it, so there’s no hairy eyeballs from random uptight passers-by. Aside from the homophobic gits they’re likely to encounter, people looking at them together are only going to think one thing.” Spike folded his arms, looking down at Dawn with importance. “Daddy kink.”

Dawn pushed him back with one freshly-painted foot. “Please. You’re just jealous because you want ‘Daddy Giles’ all to yourself.”

Spike stumbled off the bed, more in melodramatic ire than by the force of Dawn’s leg. “I do not!” He lied, voice falling flat. “Maybe a little. Look, I hadn’t seen the bloke in ages, since I bloody well burned to death, and maybe I wanted a little time to get re-acquainted without someone there interrupting every five minutes to ‘correct’ my telling of events.”

Standing, he began to pace, muttering, “Bloody watcher. Watchers.” He spun to point at Dawn. “And that’s another thing. They’re both watchers.”

“So?”

“It’s unhealthy, innit? Percy’s dad was a watcher, too, and an overbearing sack of wind. How long do you suppose before he starts getting his wires crossed about it?”

“And we’re back to the ‘daddy kink’.” Dawn shook her head reprovingly and started plucking the cotton from between her toes.

“Besides,” Spike continued his pacing of the hotel room, completely oblivious to Dawn’s lack of caring. “They have completely different temperaments. Giles likes a quiet evening at home, sipping his whiskey and listening to music. Wes likes to go out, yeah? A good long ride on his motorbike, picnic under the stars, dancing – that’s Wes. He’ll be stifled and make Giles feel older than he is.”

Dawn looked up to see her friend’s anxious expression and sighed. “All right,” she said. “I believe you. They are no good for each other. So what are you going to do? Break them up?”

Spike held up a finger, then frowned. “That wouldn’t be evil, would it?”

“No way.” Shifting to the end of the bed she put the pillow in her lap. “The only question is: how do we proceed?”

“Well, I don’t want to really hurt ‘em. Either of them.”

“So we want the gentle pry-away.” Dawn nodded with the sagacity of past experience. “What we really need is someone – or two someones – to come between them. A better match. Then they will realize on their own that they aren’t right for each other.”

Spike sighed. “Doesn’t work. I mean, other than you, Bit, I don’t know anyone in this town. And I don’t have to tell you they both have pretty high standards. Both dated lookers before this. Lookers with brains. Where am I to find someone like that who is into dusty old watchers?” He glanced down at Dawn, who was smiling up at him. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know about brains, but I do know a pretty good looking guy.”

“Really? Is he…” Spike paused. Dawn let her eyes travel pointedly up and down Spike’s frame. “Hey… now wait a minute!”

***

Spike felt the giddy excitement of a plan underway. He had Dawn’s heart-felt assurances that he was “sex on legs” and he had his own superior, he thought, ideas of what both men fancied. He gathered his weapons of war and laid his trap.

***

Wesley was out later than usual, having gotten distracted, once again, at the bookshop where he was now employed. The owner and only other employee was the sort of man who fancied himself intellectual despite all evidence to the contrary and was constantly drawing Wesley into debates.

It was worse that Wesley enjoyed them. The occasional battle of wits with an unarmed opponent could be amusing as well as gratifying. And, damn it, it did matter to him if the old fool believed the moon landings were faked or that Troy was in England.

(Why ever did they allow some people to write books?)

So it was well past the usual closing time of 7pm, and the skies over Bath were dark as he hurried home with a parcel (some borrowed reading) and a thought toward supper and re-hashing his arguments with Rupert. There were few joys more rich than shared incredulity, and Giles would add his own acerbic wit to the dressing-down Wesley’s employer so richly deserved, but would never here.

He did need a job, after all.

Retirement – which is what they both called this – was good. Better still while they were both young enough to enjoy it. After training for decades and frantically running about trying to save the world for several years, being concerned with nothing more than earning enough to pay the bills and enjoying each other’s company was… well, it was bliss.

Wes turned up his own street in eager anticipation of the evening, only to discover, to his disappointment, company - in the form of Spike, leaning on a parked motorbike.

Not that Spike was an unwelcome sight – and Spike in a tight shirt, leaning back in that boneless curve that set the imagination to wandering, could never be called anything but attractive – but Wesley felt his warm, hopefully passionate, evening with Giles quickly moving into the realm of ‘postponed’.

“Hello, Watcher,” Spike purred, flicking his cigarette butt into the street, a tiny orange shooting star. He straightened with one hand splayed on his flat stomach. “You still have that bike of yours?”

“I sold it in California.”

Spike’s positively lascivious grin muted. “Oh. Practical.”

“It was hardly worth the expense to ship it.”

“Bet you shipped your books,” Spike muttered, looking down into the street as though the pavement had insulted him. He looked up again, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Thought we could take a ride. It’s a gorgeous night.”

Wesley found it cloudy and chill, but he supposed, it being England and late autumn, that did qualify. “I’d love to, but Rupert is expecting me.”

“Now, you don’t answer to him. Er… do you?” Spike shook off his momentary concern when Wes shot him a small glare. “Uh, I mean, I thought, what with you being local and all, you could show me the good pubs.”

“You’ll do fine down in the tourist area. There’s nothing very exciting up on this end.” Wesley moved to the steps up to his building.

Faster than a blink, Spike was on the steps in front of him, gripping the handrail. “And by ‘show me around’, what I really meant was, ‘fancy a shag?’”

This was said so abruptly, almost breathlessly, and Wesley was more than just ‘taken aback’. Spike was looking at him with an odd desperation.

And Spike was, as always, very, very pretty.

“Spike…”

“No. Wes, you don’t have to say anything. I just… come out with me tonight, yeah?”

“I’m very flattered,” Wes began, and Spike reached for his hand. He stepped back to put space between them. “But there’s a loving, wonderful man waiting for me. I’m sorry, Spike. It’s not anything wrong with you. You’re just… well, you aren’t Rupert.” He hurried up the farther side of the stairs.

Having fitted his key in the lock, he turned around to see Spike still standing there, hand on the rail, head bent down. He bit his lip. “Come around tomorrow night and have dinner with us,” he offered.

Spike straightened. “Uh. Yeah. Look, Wes, I…”

“Don’t mention it.” Wesley put as much kindness in the words as he could, and slipped into his foyer.

***

“He’s clearly very lonely,” Wes said, watching Giles pace after he’d recounted his proposition from Spike.

Giles stopped at the window, looking down into the street below. He turned, frowning. “Did Spike give you any indication of his affections when you were…?”

“In L.A.?” Wes smiled, not blaming Giles for not having a ready term for the relationship Spike held toward the team of Angel Investigations. “Not the slightest. If anything, I would have thought, well, Angel…” Wes shrugged.

“There was definitely something bothering him when he visited the other night,” Giles said. He settled onto the arm of Wes’ chair with a sigh.

Wes reached up and rubbed the small of his back. “Well, I’ve invited him to dinner tomorrow, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” Giles smiled, leaning back to kiss Wes. “Poor boy needs a friend, I expect. Or two.”

“Rupert?” Wesley asked, as Giles slipped into his lap and kisses began to come more freqent.

“Mmm?”

“I might have just had a particularly naughty idea.”

“Just don’t expect me to spank you,” Giles responded, though his hands contradicted his gruff words with gentle touches, sliding under Wesley’s shirt.

Further discussion was postponed.

***

After his failure with Wes, Spike decided to take a more careful approach with Giles. Aided by Dawn, who joined him at dinner the next day. (Fortunately, because both Wes and Giles kept looking at him like he was about to crack, and Dawn’s forced attitude of “everything normal” was desperately needed.)

Dawn also asked several leading questions about Giles’ occupation, habits, and favorite recreational activities.

Which was nearly all for naught when Giles cornered Spike in the kitchen, whence he had gone to replenish (apparently inferior) brandy.

“I don’t suppose you have anything you want to say to me?” Giles stood in the doorway, blocking any possible egress, and looking very concerned.

Spike hurriedly turned his back and paid exaggerated attention to refilling his glass. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in false, bright tones. His mind, however, was certain that Wes had told Rupes, and now there was going to be some honor to satisfy.

Behind him, Giles cleared his throat. “I know that we haven’t always seen eye to eye. I can’t apologize for my behavior, when… when we parted last.”

Spike could practically hear the glasses being polished. He turned.

Giles’ eyes were on his hands, sure enough, cleaning his lenses. “With Wood, I mean. I had my reasons, which you know. But I can say,” he looked up, staring at Spike intensely, as though to drive his words home with the power of his eyes. “I can say that never was I more relieved to have a plan fail, nor, on that day, was I ever more sorry to see a vampire die. You did us all proud, Spike. I want you to know that, and know that it was said, at the time, by everyone.”

Spike had to look away quickly. “Easy to forgive a bloke after he’s dead, Rupes. He’s not around to act like a twat.”

“I don’t think you’ve…”

Spike stepped into his personal space. “What would you say, Rupes, if I were to ask you to slip into the pantry and have a shag?”

Giles blinked only once before answering, “I’d remind you that I am happily in a committed relationship, thanks all the same.”

Spike nodded, stepping back. “See? I’m a twat.”

He was a little surprised to be rewarded for this with an amused smirk. “Wesley did tell me about your ham-handed seduction attempt,” he said.

“Ham-handed! Uh… I mean, oh?”

“You should know, Spike, no matter how high a regard either of us have for you, you can never pull us apart.”

Spike leaned back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge beside him. “Beginning to get that,” he said, looking down.

“Good.” Giles reached for Spike’s chin, lifting it gently as he leaned close. “Because if you can get the younger Miss Summers to excuse herself, Wesley and I would be happy to let you come between us.”

Spike leaned back, brow crinkled in confusion. “Rupert? What… ‘us’?”

The warmth in Giles’ expression answered for him, and Spike hurried back to the dining room, his voice fairly cracking as he called, “Dawn?”

Giles met Wes’ eyes through the kitchen door and they shared near-identical smiles of smug wickedness. It wasn’t every day you out-seduced a vampire.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This is for **bethynyc** 's request, which was:
> 
>  _Characters: Wes/Giles primary_  
>  What you'd like to see: Wes and Giles in an established equal relationship and Spike as a disruptive factor. It can end up as a threesome, or with Spike accepting and being supportive of Wes and Giles together. Happy ending please!  
> What you don't like to see: Death of major characters, mpreg, mean Giles, mean or wimpy Wes, and absolutely NO Bondage, D/s, non-con, or spanking!  
> Preferred rating: PG-13 to R  
> Comics canon, yay or nay? doesn't matter.
> 
> I was a little flummoxed writing this - first because I forgot about the ficathon until there was an announcement that the deadline was reached, and then because - no spanking? not even a little? *pouts*


End file.
